In Requiem For The Departed
by Indomitable Illusion
Summary: After the Second Wizarding War, a wizard's duel gone wrong sends Harry into the past. After awakening in an unfamiliar body, Harry has a chance to change the outcome of the future while dealing with his own inner demons, magical talents, pure-bloods, and a young Voldemort in the making.
1. Chapter 1

~The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed - Carl Jung~

* * *

Warnings: Tom Riddle/ Harry Potter Dark/ Manipulative/Smart/Cunning/Powerful/Ambitious/OOC Harry

Summary: During a particularly violent duel with Draco Malfoy, a stray spell hits the time turner around Harry's neck, sending him hurtling through time.

_**Prologue**_

A dark-haired man with somber green eyes held a Time-Turner with unsteady hands. A year had passed since he, Harry James Potter had defeated Voldemort, bringing peace to the wizarding world.

Although it seemed unreal at first that the heavy burden of being The Chosen One was over after a more than a year of horcrux hunting, near-death experiences, and the loss of family and friends, Harry also began to relax and enjoy his final year at Hogwarts, along with his blossoming relationship with Ginny. He should have known that for him, good things never lasted.

With a heavy sigh, he found himself falling into unwanted memories of that eventful day three months ago that changed everything.

_A cheerful Harry Potter was walking through Hogsmeade with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They were celebrating their graduation from Hogwarts._

_It was rotten luck where he had said "Voldemort" during a conversation that triggered a band of three gaunt, unmasked men who apparated at the scene and fired killing curses at the group of four. Completely unprepared, Harry was unable to help as his two friends, and girlfriend were blasted backwards. _

_He was deaf to the shouts of fear that ensued in the aftermath, and didn't notice when Aurors surrounded and apprehended the escaped convicts. Time itself seemed to slow as he ran towards his friends. He tripped, and landed in a heap in front of Ginny. _

_He crawled the rest of the way towards her, and roughly shook her by the shoulder. Her neck lolled limply to face him, and when he noticed the unblinkingly glassy stare of her eyes, he blacked out._

_When he returned to consciousness, he was confused when he found himself surrounded by the Weasley family. _

_The fogginess inside of his head cleared and he could see that Molly Weasley was crying into a handkerchief. Arthur looked decades older with shadowy smudges under eyes indicating lack of sleep, and George, Percy, and Charlie didn't fare better in color._

"_Harry," Arthur began in a cautious voice,"Are you alright?, you were out for a week." _

_Harry blinked owlishly, bewildered at his question. Why wouldn't he be alright? He looked down at chest and could see that he was dressed in pajamas. It was the kind used in hospitals. _

_Clearing his voice which was hoarse with disuse, he asked :"where am I?"_

"_Saint Mungo's Harry, you fainted, don't you remember?" George responded sharing concerned glances with the rest of the family. _

_He had fainted? Somehow his memory came up completely blank as of why he had collapsed. Knowing his talent for finding trouble, he guessed that he probably got into some stupid accident like the ones that happened every year at Hogwarts. He hoped that this was nothing serious._

_Glancing warily at the faces surrounding him, he tried his best to steady his voice as he asked: "Err, so can someone tell me why I fainted?" _

_Increasing looks of alarm flashed across the faces in front of him. _

"_Harry, it might be best if you just rest for now." Charlie said cautiously._

_Harry grew impatient. Why was everyone walking on eggshells in front of him and acting as if there is some horrible secret that be shouldn't know about?_

"_Please, just tell me, I can handle whatever horrible truth you lot are hiding." Right after he said this, Molly's sobbing increased and Percy who was usually the most well behaved and strait-laced son of the family shocked him thoroughly by slugging him across the face with his bare fist. _

_Arthur and George immediately pulled him backwards tried unsuccessfully to muffle his cry as he shouted: "they're dead, you bloody twat!" _

_A healer came rushing in at the commotion and herded the Weasley family out of the room like sheep. She reminded him somewhat of Madam Pomfrey._

_With a look of pity at the expression of shocked stupor on his face, she said in a hushed tone, "Harry, I think that you might want come with me. Everything will be much clearer after wards. Although maybe you should simply rest today... " She was being unnecessarily wary, and only relented after Harry persuaded her several times that he was going to be fine._

_How wrong he was._

_Harry followed the healer until they reached a cool, dimly lit room. In the center were three long objects covered in white sheets. _

_The nurse cast Harry a worried glance, before motioning Harry to see what was under the sheets. Harry cautiously lifted the sheets of one and came face to face with the sleeping face of his best friend Ron. He lifted another, then another to find Hermione and Ginny also lying unnaturally still. Something inside his mind clicked and he felt a chill run down his spine. Reaching over tentatively, he gently cupped Ginny's cheek and his fingers came in contact with icy cold skin. _

_Then he remembered._

_He let out a hair-raising scream as horrifying images of his friend's deaths crashed through his mind. Banging footsteps were heard as healers rushed through the hospital to find the source of the noise._

_Tears streamed from his eyes and he fell into the ground in a messy heap with his glasses askew. A healer gripped his chin roughly and poured something down his throat that caused everything to become fuzzy, and he sank into the blissful darkness._

_A whole month had passed before Saint Mungo's reluctantly allowed Harry to leave after declaring him sufficiently mentally stable. _

_By then, the Daily Prophet had gotten wind of the news, and had interviewed several witnesses of the incident. _

_As he walked out of the hospital, Harry was hounded by news reporters with expressions like rabid dogs, asking a whole slew of insensitive and moronic questions like "Is it true that you stayed a whole month in Saint Mungo's?" and "What is your opinion of Azkaban's security?" By the end of the ordeal, Harry was tempted to hex several people. _

_After shoving his way through the crowd, he apparated to 12 Grimmaud's Place and came face to face with Kreacher who gave him look of disdain, then started to mutter nonsense about his 'poor mistress'._

_Harry ignored the house elf, walked upstairs and entered a random room, and collapsed onto a dusty bed. He was exhausted._

_A week later, he attended the funeral held by all the Weasley and Prewett Family members, along with Hermione's Parents._

_It broke his heart to hear Hermione's parents saying that they wouldn't be returning to the wizarding world, however, that they wanted to keep in contact with Harry as to hear the various adventures the trio of friends had throughout the years. Harry easily agreed to tell them happy memories of his time as Hermione's best friend._

_Amidst the heavy sobbing around him, Harry wished that he was buried along with his friends._

Chapter One

Three months after his friends died, Harry was feeling with a sense of lost.

What was going to be a blessed future where he was going to marry Ginny, and spend the rest of his life living peacefully with his friends, was gone in an instant.

The Death Eaters that murdered his friends were executed through the Dementor's Kiss. Those that didn't escape were also executed for the sake of security because the Ministry of Magic were unable to confirm how the prisoners escaped.

Harry wasn't sure if killing all the Death Eaters was justified because the ministry's incompetency. While many people praised the action, to Harry it felt like an act of vengeance than justice.

Later investigations determined that the attack was most likely an act of vengeance, carried out by vindictive Death Eaters against Harry's friends by killing those that meant the most to him, when they had lost their master, and dreams of a pure-blood ruled society.

The only thing Harry had left was a familiar sense of determination as he stared at the Time-Turner in his hands. He had randomly came upon it in Regulus Black's room where it was collecting dust behind a wardrobe.

How it had gotten there he had no idea, but he knew that it was the only one left, as the rest were destroyed during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

Perhaps his saving people thing was skewed if he was actually thinking of attempting something this foolish. He could remember Dumbledore's words during their rescue of Sirius Black and Buckbeak.

_"mysterious thing, time. powerful, and when meddled with, dangerous." _

While, it was unknown if there is a limit to how far into the past a Time-Turner could travel, the longest that he went into the past was for hours. Going back for months was an entirely different matter.

Harry, determined to find out more about Time-Turners, hung the Time-Turner around his neck and apparated to Knockturn Alley under his invisibility cloak.

He went through every library and book shop in Diagon Alley the other day, and found books on various obscure fields of magic, but nothing on time-turners. Probably very few people were brave enough to actively study it because it was such a dangerous, and mysterious type of magic.

He found a rather shady looking bookshop in a shadowy corner of Knockturn Alley and entered. He questioned the wrinkled, hag-like shop owner and was fortunate to find several old and dusty volumes with yellowed pages filled with complex descriptions and pictures on the use of time-turners.

As he left the shop with his newly acquired books, he saw a familiar young man with white-blonde hair leave Borgin and Burkes.

Malfoy, somehow sensing that someone was watching him, turned around and green eyes met with cold grey.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" he asked in harsh tones.

Harry rolled his eyes in frustration. "None of your business Malfoy," he replied nonchalantly and turned to walk towards the other direction. To his greatest displeasure, the Malfoy either hadn't gotten it or had purposely ignored his subtle request to mind his own _bloody business_.

"Don't you ignore me Potter!, what in Merlin's name is the famous savior doing shopping in a place like this?" He asked, pale eyebrows raised.

He glanced at the dingy bookshop and then at the books Harry clutched under his arm before smirking evilly.

"Well if your going for the place of the next Dark Lord, count me out. I wouldn't follow you even if you paid me to," he drawled.

Harry's arms around his books tightened as annoyance crept through his veins. Adopting a smirk similar to Malfoy's he said in his most pompous voice: "The next Dark Lord?, like the one your father used to grovel in front of? No thanks. They seem to meet rather unfortunate ends, don't you think?" he said frowning in false pity. At his comment, Draco's cheeks colored in humiliation.

"Don't talk about my father Potter, " Draco snapped angrily.

"Or what Malfoy?, you'll hurt me?" said Harry widening his eyes in mock horror.

"Yeah, the Daily Profit sure would have liked that wouldn't they?, it would have given them an excuse to the idiots to finally throw me in Azkaban. I'll bet that the brainless Weasel and filthy Mudblood would have enjoyed that. Oh wait, they can't since they're-"

Malfoy never got to finish his nasty comment, as he found Harry's wand pointed directly between his eyes.

"Shut up," Harry hissed, seeing red. "I don't mind if you say all the crap you want about me, but don't you ever mention anything bad about my friends."

He lifted the collar of Draco's robes with a vice-like grip, then realized that Malfoy's eyes were wide with fear, and that his skin had developed a greyish hue.

It had never occurred to him before Draco could actually be scared of him, but after defeating the darkest lord in history whose very name sent chills down people's packs with simply an Expelliarmus...

Harry lost in his musings, didn't notice that Draco had moved until his hand was wrenched away violently as Malfoy slashed his wand through the air, sending Harry flying backwards. He tumbled over and came to a stop against a solid wall.

Attempting to calm Malfoy he raised both hands in surrender. "Stop, we're going to get arrested if you-"

But before he could finish talking, the stupid ferret sent a non-verbal Stunning Spell his way which he blocked with a Counter Spell.

He quickly jumped up, getting into the proper dueling stance. Green eyes watched as the hawthorn wand was raised to fire another spell.

Several shop owners had left their shops to stand near their doors, observing with concern for stray spells that had the potential to damage their shops. They were unsure whether to stop the duel, but didn't particularly fancy being on the receiving end of some lethal curse.

Harry cast a nonverbal Leg-Locking Curse at Draco, tired of his irrational fear of him, but Malfoy had dodged it, before throwing his own curse.

They fired non-lethal curses at each other for about a minute, and unintentionally made their way away from the exit, closer to a dead-end.

Malfoy sent a Blasting Curse at Harry which missed, and sent brick-dust into his eyes as it dented the wall next to him. His eyes went wide with shock at the awareness that Draco had used a curse that if aimed true, could have killed him.

_'Bloody hell, Malfoy has completely lost his marbles'_

Harry observed Draco had a crazed expression, and decided the duel should come to an end before either of them were injured in the process. He at least, didn't fancy another visit to Saint Mongo's.

As he was about to throw the Disarming Charm at Draco, the dust in his eyes caused them to water, and his spell missed.

A next hex came at him so fast that he couldn't dodge or use a counter spell in time. But instead of hitting him directly, it hit the Time-Turner around his neck causing the round disk embedded with an hourglass to rotate rapidly, so fast, that it was a blur.

The only thought that raced through Harry's mind in time was _'oh shite', _before his body was blasted backwards and his head came in contact with the brick wall.

He heard several somethings snap as he crumpled into a heap on the ground.

As he struggled to keep his eyes open he caught a blurred image of Draco's horrified expression as he lay wheezing on the ground. The last thing he recalled before he let out his last breath, was that the liquid streaming down his forehead felt comfortingly warm.

* * *

As he drifted in and out of semiconscious, the first thing he noticed was that it was hot.

Really hot.

He felt as if he was suffocating, in fact.

Harry groaned, and tried to lift heavy eyelids. Why was his head throbbing so much?

He lifted heavy limbs in an attempt to stretch, but they were stopped centimeters above his head, colliding against something solid with a dull thud. He froze, eyes blinking like camera shutters.

He tried to push against the solid material above his head. It didn't budge in the slightest.

His breath hitched and his eyes darted around, trying to find a source of light, but there were none.

Next, he attempted to straighten his arms horizontally. They moved for about a few centimeters until they too came to a solid dead-end. He stretched his legs, feeling the soles of his feet hit another wall. With a rapidly growing sense of dread, he realized that his movements restricted on all four sides.

Through the sound of his finger rapping against the material, it sounded like the material was wood. With his heart slamming rapidly against his rib cage, he came to a horrifying conclusion.

He had awakened inside of a coffin.

* * *

**Note: Harry got his wish, but with a rather unpleasant twist. I won't give any details that may ruin the story.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

In the silence, only the wheezing of his breath could be heard, along with the sound of his hands and feet slamming against the walls of the coffin.

Just as his hands started to hurt, Harry remembered that as a wizard, he _should_ have his wand.

Harry began searching over every surface of his body and the coffin for his holly wand.

After minutes of searching, he realized all he possessed was the ragged clothing that hung loosely on his skeletal frame.

His breath was already strained breathing in the stale, musty air. Sooner or later, his oxygen source would run out.

_He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. _

No!, he wasn't going to die, that simply wasn't an option. Harry massaged his temples as he racked his mind for solutions.

Pounding the coffin walls didn't seem to work at all. His bony arms simply didn't have the strength.

His wand was gone, but wasn't there any way he could use his magic to break out?

_Magic..._

Suddenly a brilliant idea popped into his mind.

_Wandless Magic._

Maybe if he attacked the walls with enough wandless magic, they would break and he could dig himself out! He would have a greater chance of saving himself, compared to the continued abuse of his limbs.

Heart pounding with hope and excitement, Harry closed his eyes, and envisioned a picture of the coffin breaking into pieces. _Please let this work..._He thought desperately. Several seconds later, nothing had happened and he felt his heart sink.

Then, _it_ happened. He felt a tingle spread all the way to his finger tips.

Harry opened his eyes when he felt something like sand fall on his face.

Dirt was trickling through cracks on the top of the coffin.

Somehow, it had worked.

Harry coughed as he accidentally inhaled dirt. Holding his breath, he clawed and kicked with all his strength, the coffin lid breaking with little to no effort as he gradually made his way towards the surface.

He knew he had reached the surface when his arm met cold air.

With much difficulty, he was able to get the rest of his body above the ground and he gasped with relief as he too several large gulps of fresh air. He opened his eyes, and blinked past tears as he was momentarily blinded by the sunlight.

Looking around, he wasn't surprised to find out he was in a graveyard. He was glad that no one was around to see his body crawling out it's grave. He _really_ didn't want himself mistaken for the beginnings of a zombie apocalypse.

As Harry began to rearrange the dirt as neatly as he could as to hide the broken coffin pieces, and evidence of his "missing" body, he suddenly realized he hadn't the slightest idea how he had gotten into the coffin in the first place.

From what he could remember, he had hazy memories of buying books at Knockturn Alley and was unfortunate enough to be have been seen by Malfoy.

Then they started exchanging insults, and then curses when Malfoy had gone ballistic from his fear of Harry.

Cursing under his breath, he remembered his failure to Disarm Malfoy, then the time-turner was hit by Malfoy's hex, and that he had bashed his head against a brick wall.

Feeling along his scalp for injuries, he found none but realized that his hair was several inches past his shoulders. Damn, if only he had a mirror...

Frowning, he tugged at the dress-like outfit he wore.

Could it be that he was mistaken for being dead before being buried? No, there were spells that could tell if a person was actually dead.

Whoever took care of his body had known he was alive, and had taken proper ways to insure that he never got out of the coffin.

_That's why they took away his wand..._

Chills ran down his back as he remembered his and Malfoy's conversation:

_"Or what Malfoy?, you'll hurt me?" _

_"Yeah, the Daily Profit sure would have liked that wouldn't they?, it would have given them an excuse to the idiots to finally throw me in Azkaban..." _

Harry clenched his teeth in anger. That coward had him buried him alive, just so he could destroy evidence of injuring him as to save his own hide.

The Malfoys were filthy rich and could easily have afforded to pay off every single witness to say nothing about what they had seen.

_And that's why he had awakened in a coffin instead of at a hospital._

He would have even said it was an accident and let Malfoy off since the twitchy little ferret had seemed less than mentally stable, but this? This was murder. By the time Harry was done with him, Malfoy was going to regret ever being born.

Harry chuckled sinisterly, thinking about all the ways in which he would make Malfoy pay for his crimes.

He started to brush as much dirt off his clothes as he possibly could, when he noticed that there was a tombstone above his grave.

Oddly, he wasn't wearing any glasses, but could easily read the words engraved on the tombstone:

_Here Lies Vivian Marie Anderson_

_October 31 1926- January 1, 1937_

Harry snorted. Although he hated the bastard, he had to commend him for a job well done. If Harry Potter were to go missing, putting up his original name would be an extremely stupid idea. By using a female name, and a date decades into the past, anyone with a shred of moral fiber would never think of decimating a little girl's grave.

First of all, he needed to buy new clothes since his current ones were covered in dirt. When he tried to apparate, he found that for some reason he couldn't. Not wanting to risk splinching if he was still too weak, he decided in defeat that he would be walking instead.

As he walked, he saw that although he was in a cemetery, the scenery was really very beautiful. Tall statues of angels adorned the sides of the path as fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet.

As he walked past the arched doorway that lead to the cemetery, he saw a sign that read "High Gate Cemetery."

_High gate... _That was a district in Islington where 12 Grimmauld place stood. He could probably get there by night.

Harry walked...and walked...His bare feet started to blister and the unusually cold weather made his teeth chatter. He really wished that he had something more to wear other than the filthy rags he now donned.

* * *

Shivering in the cold wind, Harry smiled as he heard the chatter of thousands of voices. He had finally reached the city just as the sun was starting to set.

As he walked, he thought that he had probably entered a weird part of the city. Everyone looked strange, and he felt as if he had walked straight into an old, muggle black and white movie.

He saw several men wearing suits and top hats, and women wore stiff looking jackets and skirts or dresses in matching single colors.

The hairstyles were also very old-fashioned. The women had short, neatly curled hair that mostly didn't go past their shoulders, and the men had theirs sleeked back.

As Harry walked, several people moved out of his way, giving him looks of pity or disgust.

He imagined that he must have looked like a starving homeless, or an escaped mental patient.

As he pondered the strangeness of everything, he accidentally bumped into a woman. She quickly moved away, and brushed imaginary dirt from her dress.

Harry mumbled a 'sorry', but she was already gone.

As he took another step, he felt something crunch under his foot. He bent down to pick it up and saw that it was a newspaper.

Harry glanced at the title with disinterest and read:

**The London Gazette **

**THURSDAY, JANUARY 2, 1937. **

He was about to put it back down, then gave a double take when he realized what he had just read. Boldly printed on the front of the newspaper was the date 1937.

What was an extremely outdated newspaper doing, simply lying on the ground? If he were really poor, he could sell it to someone who collects antique newspaper. He decided that he was going to keep it for now. Maybe he could show it the Weasleys later or something.

Just when he started to read the newspaper, he heard a voice call out.

"Newspaper, Newspaper for sale!," shouted a boy wearing a newsboy cap.

_Did people still do this today?_ Harry wondered.

Nonetheless, Harry went over to the boy see which newspaper he was selling. The boy glanced at him warily but didn't comment until he reached over for one.

"You thieving wench, you can't just take one, you have to pay!" The boy shouted.

Harry flinched away from flecks of saliva, highly affronted for being referred to as a girl.

Ignoring the boy's protests, he stared at the cover and read:

**The Evening News January 1937. **

Harry began to feel a growing sense of unease. Somehow, the date of the newspaper he had picked up matched with the ones the boy was selling.

"Hey, is this newspaper new?" He asked the newspaper-selling boy.

The boy frowned. "Yes it is, fresh from the office, now give it back if you haven't the money to pay for it," he sneered.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He shoved the paper back into the boy's hand, and started to run. His heart pounded furiously as he sprinted down the streets in panic. He stopped by a brightly lit shop and glanced at his reflection in the glass.

A girl with hip length black hair and pale skin stared back at him. When he closed one eye, the reflection did the same.

_No, this simply isn't possible. _

His eyes looked strangely large on his small, sickly gaunt face. Instead of seeing their bright green shade, a girl stared back at him with a pair of unfamiliar eyes the color of reddish-brown amber.

He pulled and twisted at his cheeks, but his reflection stayed the same. The outfit he had thought were robes was a dirty stained white dress.

Harry ran until he reached a dark alley. It wouldn't do for people to see himself examining his body in public.

He grimaced before reaching into his _female_ undergarments and searched for the organ that would distinguish him as male.

_It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there?_

Surely, Malfoy must have drugged him with polyjuice potion right? Or maybe, there was a certain spell that would allow a person to change gender. All Harry would need to do was to wait for the spell or potion to wear off.

And then there was still issue of why the newspaper read 1937. Harry left the alley and went to ask a nearby woman.

"Ma'am" He called out towards a well dressed woman,

She turned around, and if she felt disgusted by him, she didn't show it.

"What is it sweetheart," she said with rather fake smile plastered on her face which covered with gaudy makeup.

"Could you tell me what the date is?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Why of course, I was wondering what you might have asked for," she exclaimed brightly as her eyes swept up and down Harry's form. "Today's date is January 2, 1937."

"Thank you ma'am," Harry said quickly and bolted in the opposite direction.

He was near hyperventilation by the time he stopped to catch his breath. He remembered with sick realization that Draco's hex which meant to hit Harry's body, hit the time-turner instead. The spinning was too fast for Harry's eyes to have kept track up.

In case this wasn't just some bizarre hallucination caused by a head injury, it meant that he had went unconscious on January 1, 1999, and awakened on January 2, 1937.

_63 years into the past._

_There was no way this was reality. _

Harry curled up against the cobblestone wall and closed his eyes, wishing that he would simply wake up from this horrible nightmare.

* * *

Harry stirred as he felt large hands shake him roughly. He opened his eyes wearily and glanced up to see a rather intimidating policeman looming over his head.

"This is not the time for little girls to safely roam the streets." he said glaring at Harry sternly.

_Little Girl? Him?_

Harry glanced down and saw that he was still wearing the raged dress, and his hair was still long. Judging by how absurdly tall the officer seemed to him, the polyjuice potion had yet to wear off.

_Shit._

"My partner there," The man gestured to the officer standing behind him, "noticed you wandering around here seven hours ago, and now it's twelve o'clock midnight. We found you lying here against the wall, _asleep. _Do you even realize how worried your parents must be right now?" He shouted, mustache bristling with anger.

Harry had to think of an answer, and fast.

Giving the police officer a timid look, Harry answered "Don't have any."

"Don't have any what?," asked the police officer impatiently.

Harry forcefully squeezed out a tear. "Parents. I don't have any parents," he said quietly.

Funny enough, this was actually true since he never did consider his uncle, aunt, and cousin as _family._

The poor excuses for human beings were simply people he used to stay with to ensure that the blood wards protecting him from Voldemort had stayed in place.

Looking up, he saw the policeman's eyes looking down at him in pity and he mentally gave himself a pat on the back for his brilliant acting.

"Well, we can't just leave you out on the streets now can we, now why don't you start by giving us your name."

His name? Oh crap, what was he supposed to say?

Harry had a feeling that using his real name wouldn't be a good idea for him in the long run. If any existing Potters found out, they might search up his background and would know that he really isn't Potter.

That would make a mess of everything when they accuse him of claiming the Potter's family name when he really was a muggleborn since he didn't remember any Andersons being any existing wizard's last name.

Maybe he should just say something as close to the truth as possible, but not the entire truth, since people would think that he was crazy if he told them he had time-traveled from the future.

_If only they knew. _

If he stayed here for long, he might just freeze or stave to death. Harry mentally prepared his lines and gave the police officer a sad look.

"I'm not sure what my name is sir." The police officer frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean, you're not sure? _Everyone_ knows what their name is!," he exclaimed in disbelief.

Harry bit his lip, then started in a slow voice as if he were recalling memories, which quickly turned into babble.

"I woke up and found myself lying inside of a coffin. I thought I was going to die, but managed to get out because a few of the boards were loose. When I got out, I saw that the tombstone said Vivian Marie Anderson, but I'm not sure if that's my real name because I don't remember anything and I-"

"Alright, slow down a moment, you said you were inside of a _coffin_?" the police officer gave Harry a pointed look as if he were expecting him to say that everything he had said was a joke.

"Yes" Harry answered firmly.

The officer heaved a sigh, and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"Right, well why don't you come with us for now, and we can have someone investigate if what you're saying is true, then that means that someone must have made a very big mistake."

The two officers took Harry by the hand, and walked him to an old-fashioned car. They then drove to the police department.

After the two policemen had finished discussing something behind closed doors, they had Harry write down the name of the cemetery he woke up in.

Then, they lead him to a room that held a desk and a camp-bed covered in a thin mattress, and told him to sleep there for the night.

Harry, exhausted by the emotional strain he had gone through, closed his eyes and went to sleep immediately. He dreamed bizarre dreams, about spinning time-turners and being attacked by a army of zombie Malfoy look-alikes.

* * *

Harry was experiencing one of those moments where a person wakes up, and has a feeling at the back of their mind that something is wrong, but isn't sure why.

Harry squinted at the bright morning light, and yawned widely. He looked around the room and saw a desk, and a mirror. He decided to make himself presentable and went to look into the mirror.

He took one look in the mirror and froze at what he saw.

_A girl in a dress stared back._

He shuddered as memories of the other day came rushing back.

Somewhere in his mind, he had finally acknowledged that 1. he was stuck in a girl's body because whatever spell or potion should have worn off ages ago 2. He really had traveled decades into the past. And 3. He had no idea what he was supposed to do because even if he got his hands on a time-turner, he wouldn't be able to return to his own time since time-turners could only take a person _backwards_ in time.

_And he was 63 years into the past. _Harry thought with grim realization that he would need to wait 44 years until he was born again, _if he was born again as Harry Potter. _And even then, would that mean he'd have to fight Voldemort all over again?

_He didn't think that he could bear to watch as his friends died a second time.__  
_

How did he get from his original body to this little girl body anyway? This simply denied all the laws of magic.

Even Voldemort who used several horcruxes to bind his soul to earth, had difficulty possessing a body when he was less than a spirit wandering the forests of Albania.

Harry who was deep in his thoughts jumped in surprise as the room's door sprang open with a 'bang'.

Before him stood a cheerful officer, looking decidedly out-of-place in comparison to the grayish-white walls of the room Harry resided in.

"Good morning miss, officer Jones here would like to explain a few things, if you would," he gave Harry a pearly white smile that reminded him way too much of Lockhart for his preference, and lead him to an office down the hall on the left side.

Harry vaguely recognized the two officers from the other day and sat down hesitantly.

"Hello miss, My name is Officer Jones," introduced the one that had a mustache, "and this is my partner and long-time friend Officer Hall," he gestured at the younger looking officer with a pleasant, but nondescript face.

"Now miss _Vivian, _I'm sure that you also remember our meeting from yesterday when you had told us a rather curious tale about awakening inside of a coffin. Now, I'll admit that my fellow officers, and myself included were slightly skeptical-"

_Harry certainly didn't blame him._

"But," the officer continued "We were able to find the address of the cemetery, and confirmed that what you had told us indeed matched up with a grave that was recently dug up. Now if you were trying to hide the evidence," here he gave Harry a knowing look, "You might have wanted to do a better job at it." Harry winced and the officer let out an amused chortle.

"Well, when we the asked groundskeeper about a young woman by the name of Vivian Marie Anderson, he told us that there had been a very recent death just a day ago when a wealthy family got into a car accident. He said that an old gentleman that was your grandfather- you sure you still don't remember anything?"

Harry shook his head, and the officer continued, "had the whole family buried, then left explaining that he was going to go and live quietly in the countryside now that he had nothing left to stay for."

The officer sighed. "Now, if your poor grandfather had told us where he would be staying, then perhaps you could have gone to live with him, but he had taken all the money from the bank, and then sold the mansion. You also have no memories of any relatives, so the best we can do for you is to let you stay at a nearby orphanage." He gave Harry a sympathetic look that left Harry to wonder if living at an orphanage could really be worse than living at the Dursley's.

Harry had a simple breakfast of bread and water, then returned to his room after the officers explained that they would tell him when they had located an orphanage with enough room for one more.

Harry was left to lie worrying on his cot until half past eleven when a knock on his door led him to open it and come face to face with an older officer with graying hair.

"Good afternoon miss," he said with a warm smile. "We are terribly sorry for the delay, it's simply an embarrassment for fully trained officers to spend _hours_ searching for a home for a special young woman such as yourself." Harry unintentionally smiled, liking the man instantly for his frankness.

They walked out of the police station and got into police car, which started with a vibrating rumble.

The rest of the trip was entirely quiet, and Harry was glad that he didn't have to listen the pointless drivel of soft and comforting words of encouragement such as that he 'might find it hard living at an orphanage at first, but he would soon get used to it'.

Harry mentally gave a snort, and rolled his eyes thinking with contempt about how all the other officers would pat him on the head, and treat him like a _child_. Mentally, he was really nearly twenty for god's sake.

As they drove, Harry looked through the windows and found himself seeing a different world. The hairstyles, the clothing, and even the buildings looked different from those of 1999.

Harry swallowed and started to wring his hands.

Never before had he felt such a deep-seated sense of loneliness, even when he thought of himself a freak at the Dursleys before meeting with Hagrid.

Harry was for the lack of a better word, stuck. Without a past, without a present, and most likely without a future. Just by being here, he had probably changed history for the worst.

If a Harry Potter wasn't born in the future, then there was the possibility that there would be no prophecy, and no one to stop Voldemort, Harry thought in horror.

Perhaps he was getting slightly big-headed.

There could be someone _else_ destined to fight Voldemort... If that was the case, Harry had to find a way to help him or her... but who would believe him?

By then, he would simply seem like a crazy old hag going about nonsense of his supposed past as the Chosen One. His story of his remarkable time-travel was just as unbelievable.

There was no way to prove anything unless of course he could get his hands on a pensieve.

Then there was Dumbledore...Harry wasn't even sure if he even wanted to tell Dumbledore _anything._

Sure, the man claimed to care about him, but it didn't stop him to use Harry like a pawn against Voldemort, ultimately setting him up to walk to his death, all in the name of the Greater Good, Harry thought with bitterness.

He had seen in Snape's memories how Dumbledore had coldly, callously, admittedly masterfully used emotional manipulation and the guilt of Lily's death to make sure that Snape would continue being a useful, trusting, and controllable spy in his hands.

Snape had trusted him, and he had exploited his trust. He had completely trusted Dumbledore without question, devoted his entire life into protecting Harry, Lily's son, and what did he get in return?

Being kept in the dark until the end, when Dumbledore had _finally_ found it suitable to tell him that Harry would have to die, and that was only because he needed to make sure that Snape would protect and aide Harry in destroying horcruxes.

The man died a premature death, after living a miserable life of being bullied and used by others.

He let out a hollow laugh.

If he was going treated once again as a tool or a weapon, then he would rather keep his mouth firmly _shut_.

* * *

Harry blinked, as the car came to an abrupt stop.

"We've arrived miss."

Harry felt a sudden jolt of nervousness pass through his stomach. He had felt the same sense of apprehension when first entering the wizarding world.

Harry got out of the car, and stood under the offered umbrella as it had started to pour.

They walked by iron gates that sent Harry an inexplicable sense of foreboding, and entered into a bare courtyard that lead to square buildings surrounded by high railings.

Unfortunately, Harry hadn't realized the source of the "sense of foreboding" in time.

A woman with sharp, bony features opened the door and walked over to greet the two of them. Harry thought that for some reason, she looked rather familiar.

"Good morning officer, and could this be miss Vivian Marie Anderson?" At Harry's nod, she continued, "Thank you officer. I believe that everything is in order? Then I'll be taking care of things from here on. You have my word that miss Anderson will be well taken care off."

The elderly officer turned, and gave Harry a smile that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

"Good bye, miss Anderson. I wish you luck, and that we will meet again in the future."

He waved back at Harry, as his car drove away from the orphanage.

Harry turned back towards orphanage's matron, and she gave him a rather strained smile.

"Hello dear, my name is Mrs. Cole." She wrinkled her nose when she saw his dirty clothes."Well then, you'd better come inside."

She wrapped hand around his elbow and started to lead him towards the building.

Mrs. Cole, pondered Harry.

_Her name sounded familiar. Where had he heard that? Where had he..._

Harry felt his stomach drop as he finally remembered. He had seen this building in Dumbledore's memory. The iron gate, the dreary buildings, Mrs. Cole, why hadn't he realized before?

He tried pull away and dragged his heels on the ground, but Mrs. Cole frowned and simply continued towards the door, probably thinking that it was because he was once a spoiled rich kid.

Harry had wondered earlier if living at an orphanage could be worse than living at the Dursley's.

Well, he now got his answer. Living at the Dursleys had been horrible, but this was hell on earth.

The fates were probably laughing at him, because of all the orphanages in England that he could have gone to, it _had __to have been _this one.

Specifically, the orphanage that housed Tom Riddle a.k.a Lord Voldemort.

He really _was_ cursed with bad luck._  
_

Mrs. Cole opened the door, and forcefully pulled Harry inside.

The doors slid shut with a 'clang.'

* * *

**Note: In the next chapter, Harry will meet young Tom Riddle for the first time. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Harry stepped into a clean but shabby hallway, as Mrs. Cole shut the door behind them. She eyed his appearance and frowned in disapproval.

"You will wash, and change into clean clothes, this way." She lead him down the hall and stopped by a door on the left. The room Harry entered was a bathroom complete with a bathtub, toilet, and shower.

"I assume you know how to run a bath?" Mrs. Cole asked him.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Very well then, Martha will bring a towel and clothes for you to change into." She gave him one last look, and left the room.

Harry swallowed nervously and glanced around the bathroom. There was a clean, but obviously worn bathtub with slight cracks running across its top. On a wire rack nailed to the wall, a bottle labeled 'hair wash' contained a watered down green solution. Next to it, there were several pieces of soap of mismatching colors and sizes.

His clothes, skin, and hair was caked with dirt, and Harry felt less than comfortable in this state. He supposed that he could take a bath before he decided on a plan of escape. Harry pulled off his dress and undergarments, plugged the drain and turned on a tab causing cold water to gush out.

Adjusting the temperature to a warm, he carefully stepped into the bathtub, his ten-year old body sinking into the water that rose to the height of his chest because of his inconveniently short height.

Harry wondered how he should escape. He thought about escaping during the night, and turning to the police for help. But there were several problems with his plan.

If he told the police that the reason they should move him to another orphanage is because Tom Riddle, a boy he had yet to meet was a dangerous, sadistic, and potentially homicidal individual, they would think that he was mental.

Even Mrs. Cole, who he recalled had been observant enough to suspect Riddle of his true nature, could not possibly offer with the proper evidence to support any of his claims.

Harry didn't have any money since his 'grandfather' had run off to god-knows-where. He couldn't apparate either in his current body, and he had absolutely no reasonable excuse for a transfer to another orphanage.

Harry let out a humorless chuckle. He wished that he had heeded Dumbledore's warning. Meddling with time had come with dire consequences indeed.

He had hoped of leaving this god-awful place with ease, but now realized that it was more like impossible at least for the next few years.

Harry was startled when the door was suddenly opened, and a woman entered with a stack of greyish clothing, and a towel, and left after leaving it on the stool. He supposed this was probably the 'Martha' woman that Mrs. Cole mentioned.

Harry finished washing, and dried himself off with the towel. He picked up a grayish tunic and let out a sigh. He supposed that he couldn't be picky since everyone else at the orphanage wore the same thing; at least the size fit him better than Dudley's hand-me-downs had. Harry left the bathroom, and saw that Mrs. Cole had waited for him.

"Now that you've finished, I suppose you could rest for the day. Have you had anything to eat?" Harry shook his head.

She led him until they entered a kitchen, and Mrs. Cole got out a bowl and began spooning a greyish-white substance into it.

"It is one in the afternoon, and the other children have already eaten. You'll have to make do with some of the morning's leftover porridge." She placed the bowl in front of him.

Harry stared at the lumpy substance and was less than enthusiastic. He ate every bit of it since he was hungry. It was cold, and rather bland, but he supposed that it wasn't awful.

After he finished eating, Mrs. Cole went on to show him his new room. She led him out of the kitchen, and up stone stairs.

"Here it is," said Mrs. Cole, as they arrived at the second landing and stopped at the second door. She knocked, and it opened, revealing a boy with mouse brown hair carrying a large load of clothes and an array of miscellaneous books and objects.

Mrs. Cole glanced up at him. "Billy Stubbs, have you finished gathering all of your belongings?"

"Yes, Mrs. Cole." The boy glanced Harry and gave a nasty smirk. "Tough luck, now that I'm gone, you'll be with that nutter Riddle."

"Billy Stubbs, what a terrible thing to say, you will apologize this instant!" shouted Mrs. Cole indignantly.

"Sorry Mrs. Cole," the boy said as he left, not looking in the least sorry at all.

Harry was left with a sense of confusion. Perhaps noticing his expression, Mrs. Cole explained that a boy named Tom Riddle lived in the first room down the hall. And then warned him to be careful around Riddle because nasty incidents have happened in the past.

Harry now understood that Mrs. Cole had willingly thrown him to the wolves by allowing Billy Stubbs' request to switch rooms. As a result, he and Riddle were now next door neighbors.

_Oh joy._

Harry was not only starting hate this place, but also the people living inside of it.

Mrs. Cole finished preparing his bed with a clean mattress, sheet, and pillow, and left the room in awkward silence.

* * *

Tom Riddle was reading a book in the classroom during silent reading period, however the classroom was not very silent. Apparently, a new student transferring to the school on Monday was the topic of conversation.

The new student was most likely the reason Billy Stubbs had left school early. Apparently, Mrs. Cole had allowed him to switch rooms with a newly arrived orphan; at least that was what he had bragged about.

Stubbs had become even more pathetic ever since he had found his pet rabbit hanging from the rafters. Tom's lips threatened to break into a smirk every time he remembered Billy Stubb's expression; it was absolutely priceless.

The boy had gotten what he deserved after he dared to call Tom a 'freak', spying on him when Tom was conversing with a snake. He hated them all. They were overly emotional, unintelligent, and weak, yet they scorned him because he was different, because he was better than them.

And the new orphan, he was sure would be the same. Completely uninteresting just like the rest. There was no reason for him have any interest.

* * *

Harry stirred and woke up to pitch darkness indicating that it was night-time. No one had bothered to wake him up for dinner, and he was cold and hungry.

He opened the door and glanced outside. It was silent except for the occasional snore. He felt slightly nervous as he tiptoed down the hall searching for a clock.

There was absolutely no light, so he was careful so that he wouldn't fall down a flight of stairs. In the end, he found nothing and decided that it would be best to return to his room. He opened the door, and was about to lie back down on his bed when he realized that there was someone in it.

He had entered someone else's room by mistake.

Cursing the orphanage, and its lack of nightlight, he was about to leave until the moon cast its pale light on the person's face, and Harry felt his jaw drop.

Tom Riddle. This was Tom Riddle's room and the said boy was fast asleep. He pressed a trembling hand to his mouth as images of Voldemort's face flashed through his mind. The skull-like face, the snake-like slits for nostrils, red eyes with cat-like slits for pupils, thin fingers clutching a wand ready to fire a killing curse-

No, this wasn't him. Harry had calm himself; remind himself that this was still Tom Riddle, not Voldemort.

Harry studied the Riddle's face under the moon light. He was pale, dark-haired, and handsome. His face was perhaps a bit rounder, and slightly younger than his eleven year old self that Harry remembered.

_And he was sleeping so soundly. Using wandless magic, it would be so easy to simply strangle the boy._

Even if he couldn't return to his original time, his friends could be saved. It was obvious that if Tom Riddle died, he would never became Voldemort, and never create the Death Eaters that had killed Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. They could be saved. His parents could be saved.

At this point, he cared very little if he were to never become Harry Potter. He hadn't liked his celebrity status anyway. He would do anything to see his friends alive and well again, _even if they would never remember him_, Harry thought sadly. With saving his friends in mind, Harry reached over towards Tom Riddle's neck.

But after minutes of trying, his trembling hands had yet to even touch the boy's neck. With a defeated sigh, he dropped his hands limply to his sides, cursing his soft-heartedness.

Even when he defeated Voldemort, he had done it to save everyone. But now when he was intentionally trying to cause harm, his blasted morals just had to interfere.

Now thinking about it, Harry realized that if he killed Tom Riddle, it may have been extremely unjust. Even if he had the potential, this Tom Riddle had yet to sever his soul or murder anyone. Though, he remembered that Tom Riddle had already showed signs of disturbing behavior including bullying and stealing from other orphans.

Then there was the Voldemort's blatant dislike and disrespect for 'love.' Harry wondered if Tom Riddle had really been cold and unemotional since birth.

Dumbledore had said that the reason Tom Riddle hadn't been able to understand love was because he was conceived under the effects of love potions. But Harry wondered how someone could understand love if they never received it.

From what Harry observed, the orphanage workers were too busy to actually pay much attention to each child. Harry wondered if Tom Riddle could have been prevented from becoming Voldemort had someone genuinely cared about him and shown him love.

Harry didn't have a happy childhood, not unlike Tom Riddle, but his friends were always there for him. Tom Riddle didn't have friends, he had minions and from what he could tell, believed that personal relationships were useless.

Harry thought briefly of befriending Tom Riddle. Perhaps, if he convinced Riddle that he could be trusted, if he could become someone important to Riddle, then he would have an easier time knowing what he was up to.

He already had an advantage through seeing Dumbledore's memories, and years of insight into Voldemort's mind due to the piece of Voldemort's soul. Perhaps his knowledge would give him a slight edge in predicting Tom Riddle's actions. And if he were unable to prevent Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort...

Harry clenched his fist. Well, then he'd have stop him even if that meant killing him. There was no way he was going to accept failure, now that he had the ability to save his friends.

With a heavy heart, Harry gave one last glance at Riddle's sleeping form, and quietly left the room.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more relaxed than before. It was Saturday, and he didn't have school until Monday and he as glad to have time to adjust to his situation. Harry yawned, and opened the door as he heard several voices talking outside. The group of boys outside stopped talking and froze at the sight of Harry.

"This is Billy's room, but who are you?," a boy with dark hair asked.

"I switched rooms with him," he explained.

"Oh I see, but I haven't seen you before, are you new here?" the boy asked.

"Yes, I came here just yesterday."

The boys nodded, and simply continued their conversation. Harry walked down the stone stairs and followed a girl to where they were having breakfast. Harry noticed there was the same porridge from yesterday, except this time it was warm. There was also some bread rolls, water, and milk. Harry took a slice of the bread, and poured himself a glass of water.

The breakfast was filling enough, but nowhere near as good as the full English breakfast provided at Hogwarts. That was one of the things he missed about Hogwarts; it's food.

Harry finished eating and decided to explore. He walked outside into the bare and grim-looking courtyard and saw that there was no one in sight. He was bored, and was probably going to stay bored for until the next year when he received his Hogwarts letter. He was glad at least, that he hadn't woken up in the body of a muggle.

Staring at the ground, he suddenly came up with a way to entertain himself. He ducked behind a wall so that no one could see him. He lifted his hand and concentrated his magic, caused one of the stones on the ground to lift into the air without him actually touching it.

After a while, it fell to the ground with a clatter. Without his wand, he couldn't do it as effective as using the Levitation Charm.

Nonetheless, he continued lifting rocks again and again as high as possible, making it a personal competition to see how high he could lift them.

He was having a bit of fun, until he heard a hushed voice behind him.

"You can do it too."

He spun around in shock at seeing Tom Riddle standing before him, staring at him with eyes wide with amazement.

* * *

Tom Riddle finished eating breakfast, and stretched his back until he heard it pop. Perhaps he would finish reading the book he had just borrowed recently from the library, but now he favored a walk.

He was walking until he began hearing strange noises. After every few seconds, there would be a sharp cracking noise. Feeling usually curious, he was quietly and followed the source of the noise. When he rounded near a corner, he pressed himself to the wall so that he couldn't be seen.

There was a girl around his age, with waist length black hair, and eyes the color of amber. She looked rather underfed, but what really caught his attention was what she was doing.

Before his eyes a rock was lifted into the air, and it rose higher and higher before it hovered for a moment, then dropped to the ground. There was no device, string, or pulley holding the rock up.

_The girl could do things just like him._ He realized in amazement, and before he could stop himself he called out to her;

"You can do it too."

She spun around, and for a moment simply gaped at him like an idiot.

* * *

Harry stared at Tom Riddle in panic. _This was so not as planned._ Gathering his wits, he realized that he could work with this, if he could get close to Tom Riddle...

Harry let all the emotion drain from his face. "Yes," he said quietly. "I assume you have the ability too?" Tom Riddle nodded then narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"I haven't see you before, you're new aren't you?" Riddle asked.

Harry gave him a weak smile. "Yes, I arrived yesterday. I switched rooms with that Billy Stubbs." He made a face at the memory of the unpleasant boy.

"Hmm, well did he say anything, about me?" although his face was blank, Harry could see anger Riddle's eyes and was unsure whether to tell the truth. But he didn't want to think of what would happen if Riddle found out he had lied. Trying not to think morbid thoughts about Billy Stubbs, Harry took deep breath, and decided that it would be better to simply tell the truth.

"As a matter of fact he did, I believe he said in these exact words and I quote, '_tough luck, now that I'm gone, you'll be with that nutter Riddle.'" _Harry glanced up warily and saw a stony faced Tom Riddle.

"Well," said Riddle, "Do you believe what he said? And I'm sure Mrs. Cole also told you things about me."

Harry contemplated his answer, and decided to be honest. He needed Riddle to trust him, and the only way presently was to show him that Harry wouldn't tell on him.

"I don't know what to believe as I've only arrived yesterday, but I'm sure that if it were true, there would a reason. If you did do something to Billy Stubb's, I'm certainly not going to criticize as I'm not fond of him either."

Tom Riddle gave Harry a pensive look and seemed satisfied with his answer when he asked "What is your name?"

Harry held out his hand, "Vivian Marie Anderson."

Tom Riddle hesitated and stared at Harry's hand for a moment, before shaking it.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle"

* * *

It was the first time Tom Riddle had met someone like himself, so he was a little curious about her.

"Its unusual," he began, "that orphans your age come here. Usually they're much younger. I was born here you see. " He gave her a questioning look.

* * *

"My parents apparently died recently," Harry explained, "and I was mistaken to have died also, and was buried in a coffin. When I woke up, I found myself trapped inside of a coffin and used my powers to get out. I have no memory of anything about my family for some reason, and only knew my name because Vivian Marie Anderson was carved onto the headstone."

* * *

Tom Riddle was shocked that someone could have been mistaken for the dead. The person burying her was obviously an incompetent fool and amazingly hadn't noticed that she was still breathing. Still, what a highly unusual tale. He was even more surprised when he realized that she wasn't lying.

He could always tell by looking in their eyes if the children or adults in the orphanage lied to him, but from what he could tell, Vivian Anderson was telling the truth. Though there was the possibility that she was using her powers...

* * *

Harry saw Riddle giving him skeptical looks, and said: "You can ask Mrs. Cole if you want, I'm telling the truth."

Riddle shrugged and asked "what sorts of things can you do?"

_Ah, so Riddle was curious about his magical abilities._

Harry concentrated his magic and lifted a rock into the air as Riddle watched with rapt attention. The rock sailed through the air in circles as it lifted high into the air. He was surprised when another rock sailed through the air and collided with his rock, sending it hurtling to the ground. Harry raised his eyebrows as Riddle shot him a look full of satisfaction.

It seemed like Voldemort was a narcissistic, gloating, little blighter even as a child. Well, two can play at that game.

Harry sent a burst of magic, causing Riddle's rock to smash into the wall, splitting it in two. Riddle's response was a scowl, and for the next few minutes, they had a rather childish competition of trying to smash the opposite's rock down.

* * *

That night, Mrs. Cole was was gifted with an unusual sight of seeing Tom Riddle talking with someone. From what she remembered, the boy rarely spoke to anyone, only speaking when he needed something.

Tom Riddle and Vivian Anderson were talking about their "abilities."

"So, do you think that there are other people like us out there?" asked Tom.

"I'm sure there are, although I'm not so sure about your ability to talk to snakes; even I can't do that," answered Vivian.

Mrs. Cole shook her head in exasperation. Children had such _large_ imaginations. Though she couldn't help but smile at the sight.

It seems Tom Riddle had finally made a friend.

* * *

**Note: In the next chapter, Harry and Tom confront bullies and things get violent. **


End file.
